Revenant
by Catsitta
Summary: In Wutai, it is believed that the heroes of legend would rise again in their hour of need. After a battle with one of these so called Revenants, Sephiroth is haunted. Literally. No one else can seem to see it following him everywhere...except maybe that clumsy cadet, Cloud Strife. C/S. AU. Time Travel.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** In the past year an a half I've graduated college, learned to drive, quit my first terrible job, got my first ever full time job in my professional industry (graphic design) and paid off my student loans. Now I'm celebrating a year at said full time job. I've been busy.

Think of this story as the weird lovechild of Fourth Time's the Charm, Ghost of Wutai and Delivery.

 **Chapter Warning:** Violence and mild gore

 **Revenant**

 **Chapter 1:** No Such Thing as Ghosts

Smoke choked the stars above from sight as it did the painted hues of dusk. The village burned, a terrible beacon of light that would devour until everything turned to ash. People scattered like ants from a hill, screaming, desperate the escape the fire that ravaged their homes, but most were halted by a pepper of pops and bangs. Men, women and even children fell to the ground, their burned bodies and lifeless eyes a twisted reminder that whether they stayed in their homes or tried to escape the fire, their fate remained the same. Helmeted soldiers watched on—masked, uniformed and guns raised. They had their orders. This was war. These people were the enemy. They _made_ themselves the enemy. None of this would have had to happen if one of them confessed harboring the traitor.

Foolish Wutainese pride and their supposed honor. Even to save their own lives they would not break a vow. They would rather die.

Standing behind a squad of gunmen was one of the leaders on the front lines. First Class Soldier, Sephiroth. To the ShinRa military, he was an elite warrior of rare standing—ruthless, powerful and cunning. To the people of Wutai, he was a demon. A living weapon. His unnatural feline eyes that glowed with mako energy and shock silver hair belonged on no mortal. Much less a child that appeared to be no more than sixteen. One could argue who was more barbaric. The Wutainese who would rather have their loved ones slaughtered than to compromise their precious honor; or the Continentals, who called fifteen year olds adults and dropped them onto a battlefield after three months of training.

Children led by children.

Casualties were high on both sides, because advanced weaponry only did you so well if you could barely hit a target. The men—boys—in Sephiroth's charge were the lucky souls that survived long enough to shoot properly...in exchange for what youthful innocence remained after their first kill. Like statues, they maintained their aim on the village, blue attire long since stained grey by filth and smoke to match their stony obedience. Sephiroth looked almost angelic as he watched the wooden buildings crack and crumble, with shoulder-length locks and a natural pallor that were near white despite the snow of ash. Eerily perfect, one might say, almost alien.

Feline eyes narrowed imperceptibly as the night wore on and silence prevailed. The fire crept closer to his men, grass and other greenery finally catching alight. It was time to pull back. No more they could do here. As were their orders from the General, the traitor harboring village was exterminated. But Sephiroth could not quite shake off a feeling of unease. As if turning his back now would end with a sword betwixt his shoulders blades. He lifted a leather encased hand, ready to signal the troops to fall into a marching formation so they could return to camp. Before he could bark a command, one of his soldiers let out a yowl of surprise.

Sephiroth jerked his head to the side, adrenaline mixing with the mako in his blood. No trace of emotion graced his features. Only the faint brightening of his irises betrayed his instinctive readiness to fight.

It took a moment to spot the affected solider. He was part of a line watching the northern entrance to the village. In his hands he held the remaining scraps of his weapon, the rest laid shattered on the ground. The solider broke form and spun around like a frantic chocobo looking for a direwolf. His fellows shifted. Some even trembled. What could have possibly cleaved that gun apart and startled his troops? Sephiroth drew his sword, Masamune, seemingly from thin air. The seven foot blade glinted in the firelight, as if delighted to be free of its magical sheath.

Another solider cried out. This time, it was from the line he stood behind. Was this enemy taunting him?

"Solider!" he growled.

The boy dropped the pieces of his gun and reached for the knife on his belt. "Sir!" he replied, voice deepened by the helmet. "My rifle...exploded...Sir." But they both knew that could not be the full truth. His weapon looked cleaved apart, the shrapnel created by its destruction minimal. Three more cries of surprise sounded from the ranks.

Sephiroth brandished his sword, his order little more than a whisper, "Show yourself."

 _"_ _Gladly."_

The First pivoted on his heel and slashed the empty air. The reply he heard sounded as if the person spoke directly into his left ear. His men started to turn towards him, as if to aid their commander against his unseen opponent. He waved them back, "Maintain formation." They reluctantly obeyed. What else could they do? Sephiroth was known as the most powerful fighter at ShinRa, having climbed the ranks rapidly since first appearing at age thirteen, already a Third Class Solider upon introduction. The man had just two peers that came anywhere near him skill and might. Boys a couple years his senior that were the first ever members of the slowly growing Super Soldier program. First Class Soliders Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos. If the best among the best could not handle this threat, then they were doomed.

 _"_ _Ooh, too slow."_

Sephiroth whirled again at the tease but his eyes saw nothing but the ashen hellscape. Was this some kind of invisibility spell? Another of the soldiers' guns _exploded_.

"Cease with these infantile games."

The air, inexplicably, grew colder. As if the heat from the flames was drained from the scene. _"_ _Perhaps you're right. Sparing their lives is rather childish. They will only go on to kill more innocents should I leave a single one of them alive."_ Any playfulness was gone from their voice. It was hollow. Like that of a man who knew too well of the horrors that war hailed. There was a whistle of metal cutting through air and the clatter of a dozen rifles hitting the ground. Sephiroth's mouth thinned in disbelief. One line of troops dropped to the dirt, dead before they could muster a gurgle of agony. A half-dozen young men gone in a blink. Only a single figure remained upright amidst the fallen.

Their killer.

Short statured for a male but broad chested, he had the frame and stance of a veteran warrior. He was clad in all black attire reminiscent of a standard First Class uniform. The major discrepancy being the single long sleeve hanging loosely around his left arm and the dire wolf embellishment on his pauldron. Was this man some kind of defector? Because those blue eyes of his were bright. Far too bright for anything but the mako enhanced. Unruly blond hair and oversized broadsword separated him further from the Wutainese people with which he seemingly aligned himself.

The pair regarded each other from a distance.

Waiting.

Watching.

"Shoot him," Sephiroth said to the soldiers he was nearest. They pointed their rifles and...nothing. "Do not make me repeat myself."

A beat of silence, then, "S-sir. There is no one over there?"

"Soldiers..."

Heeding the warning in his tone, five young men shot at the empty air where their fellows once stood. Sephiroth tensed as the warrior batted away the stray bullets that were actually on target with his sword. He looked bored. _"_ _Not even going to avenge your men, Demon?"_

Masamune sang as her master launched his assault on the strange man.

Under orders from President ShinRa himself, Sephiroth only entered combat personally for two reasons. His men were overwhelmed by the enemy and close to loss, or there was an impression to be made. Clearly this was not a fight his men could win given how easily this man cut them down. But it was not honor or vengeance that spurred him to use his super human agility to leap an impossible height and distance. No. It was cold, calculated curiosity. This man with mako eyes—he might last longer than a second against him in a fight before he died. A rare feat.

His blade was quicksilver in the firelight, striking down at his foe's vitals like a flash of lightning. The blond did not dodge. He did not move an inch. But in an equally impressive display of speed caught Masamune with his broadsword, deflecting the blow with startling ease. A normal man would have a broken arm at the very least after parrying an attack like that. However, Sephiroth knew the moment he saw those eyes that this man was far from normal.

What followed next was a flurry of blades and acrobatics so fast that the human eye could barely keep track.

Sephiroth was relentless, assailing his opponent with slices and slashes potent enough to create razor blades out of the air itself, that ripped jagged gasped across whatever they impacted. He was an army of one. A master swordsman. He could cut down a hundred men without rest or losing a drop of blood! And this stranger caught every one of his blows, his breathing growing minutely heavier as their battle progressed. The blond possessed almost no finesse, yet he kept pace, countering artful strikes as if they were a dance familiar to only he. When he did attack back, it was with force in mind, his blows causing Sephiroth to stagger back once or twice. Stagger!

Eventually, one of them had to slip.

Fortunately for Sephiroth, it was his foe.

As the man jumped back, having just bombarding Sephiroth with a series of slices that he could barely parry in time to save his innards from assault, he left his torso woefully vulnerable. Just as the tips of the blond's boots touch the dirt, Sephiroth closed in, using Masamune's incredible reach to its fullest advantage. His opponent's eye's went wide as he tried to move the broadsword's hilt low enough to deflect the blow, but it was too late. He was too slow. Victory was Sephiroth's! He almost grinned as Masamune impaled the blond warrior through his gut, three feet of metal emerging through his back. Just a little twist and and yank and he could slice this nuisance in half, severing his spine and several organs from their blood supply. A gruesome display of killing perfection.

Except, before he could do just that, the man dropped his broadsword and gripped the katana in his gut with both hands. There was a smile on his face, blood creeping from the corner of his mouth and oozing from his belly.

 _"_ _Why does this always happen?"_ Before Sephiroth could question the man's apparent proclivity of getting skewered or how he came to have enhancements in the first place, the blond began to laugh. The First set his stance and twisted Masamune, the gesture freeing her from the stranger's grip. There was no resistance or fight when Sephiroth decided to end things. One good yank ripped the sword clean through the blond's side. Bone, flesh and sinew gave way to the kiss of sharpened steel. It was a blow fatal to even their kind.

But instead of collapsing in a gory heap after, the man continued to stand.

 _"_ _Hm. That is inconvenient."_

"How!"

The warrior flashed a wicked smile, _"_ _Now what would the fun be in telling you?"_ His expression sobered as he stepped backwards, his steps far heavier than when their battle began. _"_ _This is not over, Sephiroth. Far, far from it."_

Without further words, he faded from sight, as if swallowed by the smoke. Even his sword dissipated as well. With narrowed eyes Sephiroth returned to his living soldiers, who were motionless again, watching his approach with an overt wariness despite their expressions being hidden by their clunky headgear.

As they returned to camp, he swore he heard one of them murmur to another, "Has he finally lost it? Attacking nothing like that..."

Had he lost his mind?

The lack of blood on Masamune made him wonder that himself.

.x.

"By what you've described, I'd say you encountered a Revenant."

Sephiroth arched a brow at Genesis. Unlike both Sephiroth and Angeal—who sat nearby, sharpening the Buster Sword he never used—Genesis wore a bright red trench coat over his First Class uniform. It made taking anything he said seriously quite difficult some days. Especially when he acted as if one of the more bizarre things Sephiroth saw in his life, was a normal conversation topic. Feline eyes fluttered shut briefly as he pinched his brow. They were all gathered in his tent at basecamp, informing one another about the status of their latest missions. When Sephiroth finished describing his fight with the strange warrior, Genesis' expression brightened and he began to pace, as if unable to contain his excited energy. Lamplight cast long shadows against the dark fabric of the walls, emphasizing every gesture in the already cramped space. All the overdone emoting and gesticulating was making him nauseated.

"You mean a ghost?" Angeal asked. The burly, raven-haired male looked just as disbelieving as Sephiroth felt.

Genesis sniffed, "No mere ghost! A Revenant. The people of Wutai have a whole series of myths and legends surrounding this phenomena. During times of civil unrest or tragedy, heroes would return from the Lifestream to walk among the living again. Some to avenge the fallen and topple warlords. Others to slay mighty beasts. Of course, there are no recent records of such occurring..."

"Because they're stories," Angeal said.

His auburn friend huffed, hands on his hips, "Let me finish, 'Geal. As I was saying, while there are no recent records of this occurring, one can attribute that to the 200 years of peace Wutai experienced before this war. The legends assure the people that the heroes will return in their hour of need, nothing less, nothing more."

"So we are dealing with some ghost."

"If you must put it that way, then yes, Angeal, Sephiroth fought the ghost of a fallen hero. It is why he did not die or otherwise react to the final strike. Though, I've never read an account of the warrior only being visible to one person. Normally the tales describe how much in awe some village or family is when the hero appears before their eyes in a dramatic display of light!"

Sephiroth rose from his seat, "How does one slay this creature?"

Genesis twisted a lock of hair and wrinkled his nose, "If you were not so uncultured and bothered to read the varied literature I procured for us over the past six months, you would know that one cannot kill a Revenant. Only dispel him." He sighed, "They are single-minded apparitions with a semi physical form. Birthed by the lifestream itself. To return to his afterlife, he must fulfill his obsession. Or should I say, his Quest."

"He claimed that 'it' was not over after our encounter."

"Congratulations. Your death is quite likely his Quest."

"Genesis!" Angeal scolded, earning a brow waggle from the target of the reprimand.

Both quieted and fixed their gazes on Sephiroth as he made for the entrance of his tent, "Enough nonsense. If it is physical enough to cut down the living, it can be killed." Revenant. What nonsense.

There were no such things as ghosts.

 **.tbc.**

 **A/N: (Thanks for reading~ Reviews are love. This will not be a super long fic, but hopefully it will be fun for my readers. Also, expect time skips during the next couple chapters as I get all the pieces of the plot in place.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Home is Where the Trouble Begins**

Warm light chased away shadows from unadorned white walls and stark bareness of Sephiroth's living quarters. One gloved hand fell from the switch and the other pulled at the pack slung across dipping shoulders. The bag hit the tile floor by the entryway with a thump and worn boots echoed through the spartan room with each step. Six weeks passed since he met the Revenant, and since then, he saw naught of the supposed apparition. Now, he was back in Midgar, the war in Wutai at a hesitant truce, both sides retreating back, compromises made by their leaders. No doubt the fighting would pick up. ShinRa would ask the Wutainese for more than their pride allowed and the again they'd be back to their bloody dispute. If they were as wise and enlightened a people as they claimed, they'd allow ShinRa to collect Mako in the country instead of waging a pointless war.

Even a weapon such as he understood the futility. He knew where it would all end.

Lips thinned and strained into a half-smile, his head shaking at the illogical nature of those raised on pride and passions. It made them weak. Be they samurai or Soldier. Because in Genesis he could see the very same faults as the Wutainese people whose culture he admired. It would be his downfall some day. Speaking of downfalls...Sephiroth glanced at the reflective surface of his refrigerator. A warped twin stared back from stainless steel, hardly recognizable as him at all. "Am I losing my mind?" he asked his smeared visage. He opened the unit and sighed at the scare contents within. ShinRa provided its Elite with private quarters, including all the accouterments required of a standard apartment. But it did not mean they kept the kitchenettes stocked. That was left to the men who lived there for however many months out of the year. Which meant what remained of his consumables was a pack of beer that Genesis snuck in from the Lower Plate as a promotion gift.

He let the door shut. Today he would eat in the cafeteria. Though his quarters could use a good cleaning after laying empty for all this time. Sephiroth trailed into his bedroom, ignoring the niggling truth eating at the edges of his brain. He should go see Hojo, find out if his mako levels were abnormal. It would explain any hallucinations. But telling Hojo that he was seeing things...THAT was something that did not appeal. The scientist would use it as an excuse to treat Sephiroth as a lab rat. No doubt he was missing his favorite project now that he belonged to SbinRa as a Soldier as opposed to Hojo outright.

"It was a one time incident," he murmured, unclasping his belt and sitting on the trunk at the foot of the bed. New boots were in order, the laces were ready to fall apart as unknotted them. "Hewley and Rhapsodos will keep the information confidential, as will my men." There was no one else alive who knew of his fight with the unseeable menace that cut down six of his soldiers with no issue. A shower would clear his thoughts. Hot water and a change of clothes.

 _"You know, they say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity."_

Sephiroth leapt to his feet and whirled. Standing in the doorway to his bedroom was the Revenant, arms crossed, leaning against the frame with indolent ease. Masamune appeared in Sephiroth's hand, beckoned from where she slumbered with a swipe of his arm.

 _"You truly no little else but war, Demon,"_ the blond warrior remarked, remaining in his relaxed pose. _"Ever lay down your blade in the name of mercy?"_

"A swift death at my hand is the only mercy my enemies will know." Instead of flinching, cowering or drawing the mighty blade from his own back, the Revenant laughed. It was patronizing. Like an adult amused by the rant of raging child. Sephiroth pointed Masamune at his foe's throat, the tip of the curved blade resting beneath the warrior's chin. "How are you here? I watched you die." He felt his body cleave apart and watched him fade into shadows. He saw nothing of the man since. And if he were a ghostly protector or Wutai, why would he be here? He should have been left behind on the country's soil.

Laughter faded as the Revenant pushed the blade away with a tip of his finger. Solid. Just as Sephiroth recalled. If it could touch, be touched...if it could talk and bleed...it was real enough to destroy. Whether by trickery or spell that made him seem otherwise, this creature was mortal. Anything else was unthinkable. Unprecedented. Unreal.

 _"I find that the dead tend to do as they please,"_ the Revenant said. Mako bright eyes were like stars against his shadow drenched face, the light from the living room dripping around his form as it would any normal human. There was no ethereal haze or transparency. Nothing to suggest he was supernatural. _"So please put down the sword. I'd like to avoid piecing myself back together again right this moment. It was boring."_

Sephiroth kept Masamune held out, ready for the attack.

Bright stars blinked and the warrior pushed from the doorway, "Maybe you will be more reasonable later." He gave the Solider an offhand wave and dared to put his back to the First. "Until then." And just like that, he appeared to melt away, like a fog banished by a powerful gust of wind. Sephiroth lowered his arm and stared at the empty spot where the Revenant stood. Feline eyes narrowed into slits.

It was time to see that slimy scientist Hojo for some blood work.

.x.

Clean.

The report came back free of abnormalities. His mako levels were normal (for him), no trace of foreign substances tainting his blood and he was as healthy as when he left to fight in the war, save for losing a few pounds. After greedily drawing more blood than required for a simple mako test, Hojo ran a few minor tests (only one of which involved causing Sephiroth unnecessary amounts of pain) and declared the First fit to remain on duty. It was expected for Soldiers to report in for a medical evaluation after an extended leave, but normally ShinRa himself had to order Sephiroth up to the research floor. Hojo apparently saw this as his favorite project realizing his place and being a good, obedient boy, instead of suspicious. So he handed him an unmarked bottle of pills he claimed were vitamins and ushered the First out. He was a busy man with things to do. No time to babysit.

Bottle in hand, Sephiroth entered the glass elevator with a sinking realization in his gut. Either the Revenant was real and haunting him specifically; or, he was crazy. He wasn't sure which was preferable. He wasn't a man that liked the thought of losing control of his mental state, but to have an enemy constant lurking at his back was far from ideal. Especially since it didn't want to stay dead.

 _"I don't know how you stand that man."_ Appearing beside him was the annoyance plaguing his thoughts. He was peering out the walls of the elevator, gazing across the polluted skyline of Midgar. A dark expression crossed his face, like when they fought in Wutai. _"He is the cause of so much misery."_

"...I cannot disagree."

The smile that twisted on the Revenant's face was manic, and his voice became a ragged whisper, _"He could have a happy little accident. End it before it begins. End him. End you. End Soldier. End ShinRa. End the war. Gone. Gone. Gone. End it all."_ He reached out and splayed a hand on the glass. He had a reflection. Sephiroth could see the eerie wildness in shining eyes. Did they ever go dull? It was like the mako in his blood was always blazing. Growing brighter, and brighter until their luminescence rivaled the neon of the Lower Plate's red light district. Sephiroth unfurled his fingers, ready to draw Masamune and wage war in this elevator when he heard the clearing of a throat.

Director Veld and his apprentice, Tseng, stood in the doorway. The Turks, in their distinct navy suits and tinted glasses, observed him with blank faces. "Is something amiss, Sir?" asked Veld in that overly formal manner his kind specialized in. A Turk was always suspicious, paranoid, always looking for answers and rooting out lies. ShinRa may call them his personal bodyguards, everyone knew they were his spies and assassins.

"Nothing," Sephiroth breezed past the two men. This was his stop after all.

He felt eyes on his back. And then, the elevator whisked away.

 _"No orders to shoot me this time?"_ Sephiroth did not look back at the Revenant. The madness from earlier was gone, replaced by mockery. This warrior, ghost, thing: it was unhinged. One moment calm, the other homicidal. How could it touch and yet go unseen? Why did no one else's eye pierce whatever veil it wore? Too many questions. He hated it. And if there were fewer eyes watching him, he would have hacked the threat apart and banished it for another six weeks. But as last time proved, when one goes about attacking seemingly nothing at all, it brought his sanity into question. He did not need more of that. Not while he was already wondering about it himself.

 _"I could do it you know. I could bring this whole city to its foundation."_ The warrior matched Sephiroth's stride and continued, answering the unspoken question the air. _"But that isn't what I am here to do."_

"What is your purpose, then?" Sephiroth asked under his breath.

The return of the manic smile was his only reply.

And apparently, his only warning of what to come.

Lunch in the cafeteria passed uneventfully, but as soon as Sephiroth returned to his quarters, the unwanted 'ghost' began rummaging through his cabinets. Loudly. Opening the cheap, black-painted doors and closing them none too gently. There was the occasional shuffle and clank of a pot or pan being moved or utensils getting rearranged. He did his best to ignore the noise as he went about unpacking his bag (which he dragged into his bedroom after returning), but the Revenant's snooping was insufferable! This was the only place where he had any privacy, and that maniac was terrorizing his kitchen as if he owned it.

Sephiroth ventured back out a short while later to find the Revenant sitting on the counter drinking one of those cheap beers. The blond crushed the can as Sephiroth approached, finished with it.

"Enjoying yourself?"

 _"It tasted like chocobo piss,"_ he replied, examining the crumpled tin in his hand. _"But I've had worse."_ He tossed the lump at Sephiroth's head, frowning when the young man batted it aside instead of letting the projectile smack between his brows. " _You never struck me as the the_ Corel Blue _type. And last I checked...aren't you Midgarians stuck up about the drinking age? You're like, fifteen."_

"Seventeen," Sephiroth corrected stiffly.

 _"Naughty, naughty."_

He summoned Masamune and lashed out. But instead of slicing the Revenant's head off, he decimated the front of his top cabinets. Two were rent off their hinges and a third hung pitifully, only half of it remaining. A _snap-hiss_ made him whirl. Leaning over the tiny island separating kitchen from living room was the Revenant, sipping on another beer. _"If we're going to get along as roommates, you can't attempt to kill me over drinking your terrible beer."_

The blond ducked as Sephiroth swung again.

 _"Is this really necessary?"_

When Masamune sank into the tile an inch from his left foot, the Revenant let out a sigh and set down his stolen drink. He drew the massive broadsword from his back and fell into a fighting stance. The pair launched at each other and soon the tiny apartment became a battleground. Crashes, thumps and the screech of metal resounded in the air. Unfortunately for Sephiroth, his usual tactics involving maximizing Masamune's reach were almost impossible to employ, and his foe was quick to take advantage. That monstrous blade he wielded actually broke apart into separate swords, and mid fight, he found himself in close combat. He made to put distance between them, but his leap landed him on the back of a shredded sofa. The piece of furniture protested and gave way, sending Sephiroth tumbling to the ground. He was on his knees for a split second, but that was enough time for the blond to once more close in.

Sephiroth lifted Masamune, but the Revenant slammed the pommel of his larger sword down on Sephiroth's wrist, knocking his arm to the side. He then took advantage of the momentary opening to slash at the First's gut. Pain launched through him. Metal sliced through cloth, skin and flesh. His eyes brightened as Mako flooded his system, numbing him, making him stronger...

BAM!

His world went black.

Even the mightiest Soldier wasn't immune to a solid blow to the head.

When he roused, aching and confused, he saw two figures rushing towards him. Sephiroth groped for Masamune but found her gone, returned again to her otherworldly sheath when he fell unconscious. One of the figures knelt and tilted Sephiroth's face towards them.

"Angeal?" he blinked. "Genesis?" The auburn Solider stood next to his raven friend. Both men looked concerned.

"Sephiroth, what happened here? There looks to have been a fight," Angeal asked.

"Humph, or you were wasted and didn't invite us to the party." Genesis added. He shrugged when Angeal shot him a glare. "What? I can count five empty, crumpled up cans on the floor. Didn't know a Soldier could be such a lightweight, but Sephy here isn't exactly a drinker. And look at him, not a scratch. If he was in a fight and someone got the best of him, wouldn't they have finished him off while he was down?"

Sephiroth sat up with a slow breath, one hand coming up to rub where he was half-gutted. His mako healed him up, but the tear in his shirt remained. Apparently the redhead could notice beer cans but not the state of his uniform. Slowly, reluctantly, he said, "Revenant."

"What?" Angeal helped Sephiroth stand. "You're saying the ghost from Wutai did this?"

He nodded.

Genesis frowned, lips pursed in scholarly thought, "He followed you to Midgar to slay you, yet did not take the opportunity? Did you wound him terribly like last time? I was so certain his Quest was your death."

"He claims he could tear Midgar down to its foundation if he wished."

"And he hasn't?"

Sephiroth walked over to one of the crumpled beer cans, "No. He simply called your beer piss and then drank it all." Apparently he decided to finish the rest of the six pack while Sephiroth was down. "His motivations at this point elude me."

"Well, regardless, this place is a mess," Genesis said. "How are you going to explain this to the higher ups? Attempting to perform an exorcism and it went horribly wrong?"

He scoffed and ran a hand over a rent in the wall, "Hn. I will say I am...redecorating."

Angeal shook his head, "With a sword?"

"Worked for Genesis."

The auburn shrugged, "He has a point."

"As long as you don't go storming down the halls with a fireball in hand, ranting about the absolute horrors of mismatched drapery..." Angeal pinched his brow.

"Of course not," Sephiroth assured him. "Summons invoke far more terror."

At Genesis' contemplation expression, Angeal turned away, "I heard none of this. None of it!" He rubbed his face with one hand, "But on a more serious note, what are we going to do about this Revenant issue? Hope he doesn't go on a murdering rampage before Sephiroth figures out how to dispel him?"

All three fell silent. This was new territory for a trio of young men who were all too used to conquering every foe they faced with force alone.

Genesis cleared his throat, "Perhaps one of should stay with him to assist when the Revenant becomes violent."

"What use is there of us being here if we cannot see him?" Angeal countered.

"Well how do you know we can't?"

"Because he is sitting on what remains of the couch and none of you have noticed," Sephiroth drawled. The two other Firsts turned to face the blond who rather cheekily waved at them. Angeal crossed his arms and Genesis tucked both hands into the pockets of his crimson jacket.

" _Want to play nice now,_ Sephy _?"_

Sephiroth gave the warrior a black stare, "You two may leave. I am recovered."

"What about the Revenant? You said he is right there," Angeal said.

"He appears to want a truce of some variety. If I require your assistance, I will call."

Both men looked at each other and reluctantly walked to the door. Genesis, before he followed Angeal out, cast a glance back at Sephiroth, "You probably made a ruckus when you fought with him. I'm surprised a Turk didn't get here by now, so...be careful." And then he was gone, the door shut behind him.

" _I like them. Didn't realize you had such close friends."_

Sephiroth stiffened. The blond was smiling at him and he couldn't read what it meant. Were his words genuine or a hidden threat? "Do not touch them."

" _Now how exactly would you stop me?"_ he asked before chuckling. The blond slid off the couch and sauntered to the fridge as if he owned the place, _"Onto more important matters. We're out of beer."_

 _.tbc._

 **A/N: (Thank you everyone who reviewed~ Your little comments are what inspires me to keep writing. Expect a bigger time skip next chapter. We're getting to the thick of the plot very soon. As always, reviews are love! See you all next time.)**


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